Chapter Four

Scrolling through I*******m was supposed to be harmless. I told myself that a hundred times. But my thumb froze when I saw a notification:

Elijah Brooks started following you.

I blinked, stared at the screen like it had suddenly lit up in neon. I’d seen him around, of course—neighborly smiles, shared coffees, breakfast the morning Jason had shown up—but this? This felt… different.

My finger hovered over the screen. Should I follow back? Did I follow back? My heart gave a small, ridiculous leap.

I did.

And then a DM popped up almost immediately.

Elijah: “Hey… hope you don’t think this is weird, but I figured I*******m is safer than just knocking on your door. ☕”

I laughed quietly, feeling warmth creep into my chest. Safe and thoughtful—him, in two words.

Me: “Not weird at all. I was actually thinking I should have knocked on yours last night.”

Elijah: “We’d have ended up eating pancakes again. Can’t say I mind repeating that.”

We chatted like that for a while—memes, small talk, joking about my disaster with Jason, which felt oddly freeing. Then, almost casually:

Elijah: “Hey… if you’re free this weekend, want to do something? I figured we could get out of the apartment… you know, somewhere fun.”

My chest tightened. Was this… a date? The thought made my stomach flutter and my brain go blank at the same time.

Me: “Somewhere fun? Like…?”

Elijah: “Coffee, a walk, maybe ice cream? Totally low-pressure. Just… you and me exploring the city.”

I stared at the screen, my pulse going a little faster. My apartment suddenly felt tiny. My wardrobe suddenly felt insufficient.

“Low-pressure,” I muttered to myself. “Right…”

Saturday morning, and my apartment was chaos. Every drawer and closet door was open. Shoes scattered across the floor like they’d staged a revolt. My brain refused to focus on anything other than one question: What do I even wear?

A blouse? Jeans? A skirt? Something casual? Something cute? Something that said I was approachable but also… not completely desperate to impress him?

I held up a dress I hadn’t worn in years. “Nope,” I muttered. “Too much. Too… I don’t even know.”

Then a sweater. “Cute, but not… cute enough?”

I tried on every outfit I could find, pacing back and forth like a frantic runway model. Elijah’s messages buzzed in the background, calm, casual.

Elijah: “Take your time. No need to stress 😄”

Me: “Stress? Me? Never.”

I giggled at my phone, shaking my head. The absurdity of it all—my overthinking, my messy hair, the rain from earlier in the week still lingering somewhere in my mood—made me laugh and groan at the same time.

Finally, I settled on a soft blouse and jeans, something that felt like me—comfortable but a little more than just pajamas. I ran a brush through my hair, tugged on a pair of earrings, and stared at myself in the mirror.

“Okay… I can do this,” I whispered.

And when my phone buzzed again, Elijah’s name lighting up the screen, I smiled.

Elijah: “Ready? I’ll pick you up in twenty.”

I took a deep breath, smoothing the front of my blouse, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

“Twenty minutes,” I said to myself. “I’ve got this.”

I didn’t know what the day would bring. Ice cream? Laughs? Awkward pauses? Maybe even a little spark.

But one thing was certain: for the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to seeing someone.